


Any Other Way

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-07
Updated: 2002-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smallville/BtVS Crossover. Lex brings  someone rather interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Other Way

## Any Other Way

by Lindsay Beth

[]()

* * *

A/N: This would of course have been written before we found out what Club Zero really was, so let's all pretend it's still a club of questionable nature. I was kicking around random pairings with my beta when the idea of Spike/Lex came up. Thus, another one of those BtVS crossovers. This is a some years in the future from where the shows at now, after Lex has had his fair share of the oddness starting with the life of formally living in Smallville. 

Oh, and though categorized as BDSM, this doesn't fulfill all those characteristics. Just the bondage part really. There was just no other choice to pick. 

* * *

Any Other Way  
By, Lindsay Beth

* * *

Spike. 

A black canopy bed, mahogany wood. The sheets, the curtains black. Black candles lit around the bed, the only light, casting shadow and light of his pale body. His arms bound over his head to the bed posts. He tugs at them with a look that is half a desperate gasp for breath, half a sign of frustration, trying to break free. Body arching off the bed, hot, sweaty, yet cold flesh writhing desperately. A growl rising as a purr would in the back of his throat 

Futile struggle. 

The chains hold. Hips rising off the bed and chest rising and falling with short breathes. Another tug. And then a low chuckle 

Spike's eyes flash forward only to be blocked by a blindfold, black and blanketing over his eyes. He feels the figure glide down on to the bed, leaning over him and without a doubt smiling, all predatory and hungry. Then a wet, hot tongue licks down the through a trail of sweat on his abdomen, dipping into his navel and spike arches up again, this time not due to the chains. 

"Who the bloody-fuck are you?" He gasps out, accent thickening and rich. 

"Call me a friend." The figure replies. "A generous friend looking out for your welfare." 

And then Spike remember the cold street, and the figures outside of the club... Club Zero. And those bloody humans and their bloody cowlike humanity as they shoved around him. All a bunch of bloody happy meals on legs when you got down to it, but too suffocating when the fact was that you couldn't have a bite. How was a demon to fight back an angry group if his mind cried in agony for any injury he inflicted? But someone had parted the crowd, someone... As his world went black. 

"Do you have any idea what I am?" Spike can't help but growl, testing the chains again. 

"Does it matter?" 

The tongue goes back to its trail, slowly and torturously dragging in and out of his navel, paying no attention to... More important parts that truly crave the attention. Fighting a moan, Spike bucks his hips and then growls louder. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it can be to bind a demon?" 

The tongue stops. 

"I've spent my life studying strange things." The unknown stranger says suddenly. "Demons aren't too unordinary I've finally found out. So what are you then? Goblin? Vampire?" 

Spike pauses, having been given this food for thought. "Vampire." He finally says. 

"Ah." 

A warm, capable hand suddenly squeezes his inner thigh, massaging ever so close, yet not quite where it needs to be. 

"Fucking wanker." Spike snarls as he struggles and arches back. "Who the hell are you?" 

"Does it matter?" The voice replies and, _there_ , his hand is there, finally where it needs to be. Stroking him slowly, always the calm, even pace. 

" _Fuck._ " Spike moans, the chains digging into his wrists. His leg bends and begins rubbing up and down against the sheets as his heel digs into the mattress. " _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ " 

"I was hoping you'd be this agreeable." The stranger chuckles slightly, and then there's a dipping of the mattress as his weight shifts, but the firm hand keeps stroking him. Spike is too gone to care about the strike at his virtue and arches back like a lithe, sinewy cat. 

The bed shifts again and suddenly he let's out a yelp that blends into a moan as a hot pool of melted candle wax is poured on to his stomach, the trail being drawn up the center of his chest 

" _God_ ," The stranger murmurs. "Evil isn't supposed to be beautiful". 

"Ah, but we're allowed to be sexy." Spike purrs. 

A wet mouth suddenly latches over one of his nipples, sucking and then nipping at the sensitive flesh. He jerks, hips bucking up and this time there are firm thighs now straddling him. Thrusting upwards his straining erection meets another the contact causing a two-part harmony of moaning and the lips that release him are suddenly devouring his mouth. 

He kisses back fiercely, starving like he's never been. Bloodlust runs through him, but overpowering it hunger. Hunger for flesh on flesh, in flesh, in him, and hunger for these kisses that fight to devour him whole. The tongue delving deeply into his mouth, so assured and under control for a mortal. A _mortal_. Chained down and fucked by a mortal. There was something that happened once every blue moon. 

Time to change the lunar calendar. 

With a moan Spike fights as the mouth pulls away. He tries to follow but is too restricted. With a frustrated growl he struggles for a moment, only to have firm hands hold his arms down. 

"Calm now." The low voice whispers to him. "I'm trying to fuck you as soon as I can." 

And somehow that appeases Spike. Though he doesn't say it. Just lies there, hoping its stoically. 

"Come on now then." He does say. "Have at it." 

And then he feels the stranger push inside 

Fuck pain. Pain is good. Vam-pire, creature of darkness, being a tad fucked up is necessary. And that sharp pain as the stranger's cock makes it's entrance is just what Spike needs. He groans, thrusting up, taking as much more in as he can. 

"Slow down." The stranger gasps. 

Spike only growls in reply. 

Finally, bracing his hands on Spike's hips, the stranger pulls mostly out before pausing, his breath heard with an obvious struggle for control, and then thrusting back deeply inside. Spike groans, hands grasping for the chains, which he holds on to tightly. The stranger breathes heavily and goes to repeat the action. Spike is moaning, and arching, and pulling on the chains with all his might. His body glistens in the candlelight, and death has never been so lovely. 

" _More_." Spike groans, and the stranger thrusts faster, pace quickening. Then one of those capable hands finds its purchase again, and begins stroking Spike in time with the thrusts. Struggling and muttering a thick mix of curses that blend together, Spike gasps, and moans, and writhes from the sensations being provoked from his body. 

The stranger moans to, obviously at the short end of his control, and strokes Spike harder, his thrusts rigid now. Finally with a strangled cry he jerks, and comes, spilling hot seed into the thrashing vampire beneath him, who shouts out some unintelligible curse and clamps down, coming hard with him. 

They both gasp for breath, and the stranger slips out, collapsing beside him. 

Finally, after a while, the stranger gets up. Spike can feel him disappear briefly before he comes back, taking a warm, wet cloth and wiping him off. The act is performed thoroughly, and Spike just relaxes, letting himself enjoy the attention. Hell, isn't like he can lend a hand. 

Once done, the cloth is placed aside and then Spike hears the jangle of keys, and then the chains at his wrists were being undone. Spike sits up, shocked and rubbing his wrists before remembering to pull off the blindfold. He looks at the person who had just fucked him senseless, and squints. 

"Hey, aren't you--" 

"Lex Luthor. The Millionaire's son. Yes, nice to meet you." 

"Well then..." Spike says, lack for words. Hm. Fucked by a rich and snobbish mortal. Well, not bad... 

"So, I'm hoping you'll consider staying a while? Even if it may be evening again soon, Mr... Hm." 

The man looks at him for a second and then Spike nods. "Oh, yes. Mr. Spike." He says, and then grimaces. "I mean, Spike. No Mr., formalities are really for pansies like that, if you don't mind me saying." 

Lex smiles. It's a smile Spike can feel close to his own heart. "No, I don't mind at all, Spike. So, about you staying?" 

"Sounds great. If you don't mind giving me a moment to catch my breath. Or, well, if I breathed that would make more sense, but you get the gist." 

"I get the idea." Lex nods. He looks at Spike, and then reaches a hand out and traces down the side of his face, running his fingers over his lips not quite tender but more as though he were appraising a fine piece of art. 

Spike snakes his tongue out and sucks in one of his fingers, letting his teeth graze it for a moment before releasing it. 

"And about these chains. You do know that next time, _you_ will be the one wearing them." 

Lex gives him a slow, lionlike smile. "Oh, I wouldn't have it any other way." 

end 


End file.
